Everything I'm Packing to Walk Across Countries (And Why Most of It Might be Unnecessary)

Let's start with the truth: I've never done anything like this before.

I'm a personal trainer with over 20 years of experience. I run regularly. I work out consistently. My body is my business card.

But walking thousands of kilometers across borders in the summer heat with everything I need strapped to my back? That's a whole different game.

 

The Wild Idea That Started It All

It began as a spark, then grew into a flame I couldn't ignore. Dubai to Armenia(and possibly beyond), on foot. Through countries, climates, and cultures. A journey measured not in reps or sets, but in kilometers and borders crossed.

Why? That's a longer story for another day. But here I am, surrounded by gear I've meticulously researched, nervously purchased, and haphazardly tested in my apartment.

This is the story of what made it into my backpack, what didn't, and why everything I carry has to earn its place—not just by weight, but by worth.

The Load That Carries Me

Backpack: Osprey Aether Plus 70L

After countless YouTube reviews and Reddit deep-dives, I settled on this portable home that will live on my back for the foreseeable future. It's comfortable, durable, and has enough compartments to satisfy my organizational obsessions.

Will I pack too much in it? Almost certainly.

Will I learn the hard way what's truly essential? That's the plan.

Inside, everything gets organized in dry bags—color-coded like I'm preparing for a military operation rather than a personal journey. Essentials stay at the top where I can grab them without unpacking my entire life onto the trail.

Home Is Where You Pitch It

I went with a Night Cat 2-person tent. Lightweight enough to carry, sturdy enough (I hope) to withstand whatever weather decides to test my resolve.

I assembled it once—in my living room. My girlfriend watched with a mixture of amusement and concern as I crawled inside and laid on my newly purchased sleeping mat. The cats, naturally, thought this new fabric structure was installed solely for their entertainment.

When I attempted to test the gas stove indoors, both girlfriend and feline observers unanimously voted against it. Some lessons are better learned on the road.

Also in the sleep kit:

• Sea to Summit insulated air mattress (because this journey will be challenging enough without waking up feeling like I've been beaten with sticks)
• Night Cat sleeping bag (rated for temperatures I hope never to experience)
• Memory foam travel pillow (small luxuries matter when everything else is stripped away)

Clothing Philosophy: Function Over Fashion

As a trainer, I preach the gospel of proper athletic wear. Now I'm applying those principles to a much longer workout:

• Merino wool base layers (because cotton is the enemy of comfort on long treks)
• Quick-dry shirts that prevent the special misery of perpetual dampness
• Convertible pants that zip off at the knee (practical, if not particularly stylish)
• Merino wool socks and toe socks (blister prevention is non-negotiable)
• UV protective hat with neck flap (looking ridiculous is better than looking like a lobster)
• Slides for camp (giving my feet freedom at the end of each day feels like a human right)

Each piece must earn its place through versatility. Can it be layered? Does it dry quickly? Will it hold up to repeated wear with minimal washing? These are the questions that matter now.

Nutrition On The Move

As a personal trainer, I understand nutrition is as important as the right footwear. My portable kitchen setup is minimal but mighty:

• Compact cooking set with gas stove (tested only outdoors, after The Indoor Incident)
• MuscleTech whey protein (because protein requirements don't take vacations)
• Electrolyte tablets (Science In Sport, because sweating through desert heat demands replenishment)
• Multivitamins (maintaining health when diet might be inconsistent)

I've practiced exactly zero outdoor meals so far. But I've watched plenty of videos, so that practically makes me a wilderness chef, right? Right?

The "Just In Case" Kit

My professional background has taught me that preparation prevents problems. So I've packed:

• Mini first aid kit (surprisingly comprehensive for its size)
• Multi-tool (12 functions I hope to use, and several I hope never to need)
• Water filters (because questionable water sources are a certainty)
• Headlamps with multiple settings (because fumbling in the dark is funny only in movies)
• GPS tracker (because "approximately here" isn't precise enough when you're truly lost)

Is it overkill? Maybe. But when you're kilometers from civilization, "better safe than sorry" isn't just a saying—it's a survival strategy.

Documenting The Journey

This isn't just about walking. It's about sharing the experience, the challenges, the beauty found along the way:

• Drone (for those sweeping landscape shots that give context to the journey)
• Solar smartwatch (tracking metrics and charging itself in the process—a small miracle)
• Phone tripod with remote (because selfies with an outstretched arm only convey so much)
• Solar power banks x2 (to keep it all alive)

Is it contradictory to seek wilderness while carrying technology? Perhaps. But these tools help bridge the gap between my experience and those following along. They're my connection to the world I'm temporarily leaving behind.

 

What Didn't Make The Cut 

For every item packed, three were left behind:

• Laptop (too heavy, too valuable, too vulnerable)
• Books (painful to admit, but physical books are luxury items by weight standards)
• Most of my usual training equipment (the world will become my gym)

Each "no" was a small battle between desire and practicality. Practicality won, but not without a fight.

 

The Weight of Expectations

Here's what I know for certain: I've overpacked. Every first-timer does. By week two, I'll have a collection of items mentally marked for abandonment as soon as a suitable donation opportunity presents itself.

I also know that no amount of gear can fully prepare me for this journey. Some lessons can only be learned by taking the step, making the mistake, feeling the consequence, and adapting for tomorrow.

As a trainer, I've spent decades helping others prepare their bodies for challenges. Now I'm preparing my own body—and mind—for something that can't be simulated in a gym or programmed into sets and reps.

There will be pain. There will be doubt. There will be days when I question every decision that led me to this point.

But there will also be sunrise views that no photo can capture. Conversations with strangers that change my perspective. Moments of pure, unfiltered experience that justify every blister and sunburn.

Carry Only What Carries You

So this is what I'm packing to walk across countries—equipment researched within an inch of its life, purchased with more hope than certainty, and packed with equal measures of excitement and trepidation.

I’m not packed perfectly. I’m probably overpacked, in fact.
I’m not an expert. But I’m willing to learn.

What I do know is that this journey is about more than gear. It’s about going step by step toward something uncertain — and choosing to do it anyway.

So, this is what I’m carrying to walk across these countries.

And maybe, just maybe… to carry myself a little differently by the end.

If this journey speaks to you — if you believe in movement with meaning — you can help keep it going.

👉 Visit the RAKOSAT Shop to wear your support with T-shirts, hoodies, and mugs that carry powerful, positive messages.
👉 Or head to the Support the Journey page to help fuel every step and every act of kindness.

Your support helps turn each mile into a message — and every step into something bigger than myself.
🙏 Thanks for walking with me.

 

Got questions about specific gear choices? Suggestions from your own experiences? Reach out and let me know. Or tell me: what's one thing you'd never leave behind on a journey like this?